Blood Red Roses
by Obsedian
Summary: The story of a prisoner selected to provide entertainment to a group of sofisticated strangers. Who are they? What do they want with her? Will she find her salvation or be doomed to a living hell?


Leila was terrified.

She had not been taken out of her cell once in the entire time she had been there.

There were two pairs of painfully calloused hands dragging her across hard stone that ravaged the skin of her legs. The hands began to yank her up a set of spiral steps that cause Leila to gasp in pain as each step caused a little more tissue to leave her shins. After five minutes the blood was flowing freely to join the countless stains upon the torturous stairs.

She had shared her cell with six other nameless prisoners. They had stolen everything from her and she had been forced to use a rough canvas sack as her only piece of clothing. That and a blindfold one of the nameless had forced her to wear. The canvas barely came down to the tops of her thighs now and it was as good as nothing at all towards the cold.

Sometimes, when the temperatures became so extreme that all of the nameless had to huddle together to save themselves from death, she could hear hard breathing and the sound of skin against skin. No one had ever touched her. She supposed she must be very ugly and thanked the gods for their favor. At other times, always when she had been sleeping, she could hear other prisoners being taken away. Some of them struggled and others went quietly, resigned to whatever fate the gods had granted them. The worst were the ones who simply did nothing. All she could hear was the scraping of the prisoner's bodies against the cold stone.

Now she knew why.

Now she knew why they did not move. They were frozen; frozen in fear and despair. Just as she was now.



The stairs ended abruptly and Leila was once again being dragged along the cold, stone floor. The hands stopped.

The ones on her left barked an order and the creek of massive door being opened screamed in Leila's ears. The hands dragged her on further, into a room that felt huge to Leila. As they dragged her across the space she could hear the distant echoes of their steps far in the distance. After about ten minutes she began to hear the murmurs of a large group of people. The further she was dragged, the louder the noise became.

Eventually the hands stopped again and again the left hands barked out an order. Another set of doors opened. These, however, where well oiled and made barely a whisper as they slowly opened. The noises stopped abruptly, as if cut by the sharpest sword.

Leila sensed many eyes on her, but could not hear anything. Only the sound of her own pounding heart in her ears broke the absolute silence.

"What have you brought us?"

The voice was soft as velvet and deeper than any she had ever heard before. Even in _her_ experience, she had never heard anything so rich. It petrified her to her very bones and it was all she could do not to whimper; much less stop the quivering that had suddenly overtaken her. She had no idea who these people were or what they could possibly want with her.

Another voice answered the first; it was oily and snake-like. Not to be trusted and used to talking its way out of trouble. "A toy for your amusement Gabriel. You said you were bored, I am attempting to provide you with a bit of entertainment."



Many silent, high-pitched giggles erupted about the room. The hands shifted uneasily. "You may leave" oozed the oily voice. The hands left her. Leila would have rather chopped off one of her own than have had those hands leave her at that moment.

The doors opened and closed once again. Once they were shut there was again complete silence. If she had been petrified before, now pure terror gripped her. Something brushed her and she nearly screamed, flinching back severely from the contact. It was colder than ice, as cold as death itself.

The giggles erupted again.

"Calm yourself, child" said the velvet voice; Gabriel, that was what the oily voice had called him. Leila became still; awed at the sound. "Martha, come and take this child and clean it up. I can't tell if it's a girl or boy under all that muck. Make sure that when it comes back it is properly dressed."

"Now just a moment Gabriel," the oily voice objected, "it makes no difference whether it's a boy or a girl, it must make the offering." Leila didn't like the sound of this. Her offerings were for the gods and none other.

"What can you offer us?" the oily voice whispered by her ear. Leila reeled back from the oily sensation by her ear. She hadn't heard him move, hadn't heard him at all. That scared her more than anything had before.

She shook her head, not understanding what the voice wanted. "What is your offering, thing?" the oily voice sizzled. Another shake of the head earned her a slap across the mouth. "Your name, thing" the slippery voice demanded. Leila was silent, unmoving. A freezing hand suddenly clenched around her throat and lifted her into the air. "Your name." the voice no longer burned, it had frozen, like the 

hands that were even now sawing the line that she held to life. "Leila" she choked. "Leila what?" the icy voice prompted.

"Desirath" Leila gasped.

There was a collection of gasps from around the room. Leila cursed to herself, they knew what it meant.

"Impossible…your kind died out long ago. I should know, I…" the voice trailed off. The hand let go of her neck and as she fell caught her foot. He quickly accessed the scar on the sole of it, and seeing the complex pattern that was her birthright, seeing that what the thing he was holding was indeed a genuine Desirath, put her down gently onto the floor. "It seems that we know what your offering will be, small one. Il Ballo I think. Most appropriate, don't you think?"

Leila's jaw dropped open. He couldn't possibly ask that of her, knowing what she was. But he did, he had. "How _dare_ he ask her!" she thought furiously to herself. The ceremony was to be carefully prepared, the participants carefully considered, and the utmost care taken with its execution. What this man, this _monster_ was asking her was akin to rape. It would be rape. They would steal her freedom and her will and bind them to whomever performed the ceremony with her.

The Oily voice chuckled. Leila wanted to stab him.

The Il Ballo was the ceremony performed when the participants wished to form a life bond. It joined the two souls together, even past death. If one life was ended, then so did the other. It was the ultimate show of love and trust. To ask to do it with a complete stranger, someone she didn't even know, it was like a death sentence, worse than rape.

A single tear left a trail down her cheek from under her blindfold.



"I don't think it wants to do what you just asked of it, Gustave" said the voice from the deep.

"I don't care if it _wants_ anything. It is my prisoner, and it shall do as I say, unless you wish to claim it for your own, dearest Gabriel." Gustave countered.

The tension escalated in the room by several degrees.

"What are you insinuating, Gustave?" Gabriel asked wearily.

"Oh, nothing, merely pointing out that you have yet to claim a human for your own" Gustave said slyly.

"I have never come across any of your stock to tempt me, Gustave" Gabriel returned.

Leila did not like the way any of this was going. They kept referring to her as an it, and as a human. What were they if not human themselves?

"I have a proposition for you" Gustave offered with an air of triumph "If this being performs the Il Ballo for you, I swear to you that you will be completely enthralled. If she fails or refuses to do so, she is mine, if not, then you may claim her for your own, if you so wish."

"On the condition that it be allowed to be bathed and properly clothed before performing" Gabriel demanded.

"Done" agreed Gustave.

"Martha" prompted Gabriel.

A few light footsteps came towards her, paused, and then Leila felt a warm hand on her arm. She shuddered inwardly. The hand seared her icy skin and made the cold all the more potent.



"Oh, and Martha, put it in something that, how do you say, suits the occasion" Gustave commanded.

"No need to worry dearie" whispered a sweet as honey voice somewhere near her ear. "We'll get you taken care of." She put her arm under Leila's and hoisted her up. When she was finally standing her legs (and the rest of her) were trembling terribly. She hadn't had any physical exercise since her imprisonment and she didn't remember how long ago that had been. The trip from the cell had taken what little energy and drained it from her. She sagged and nearly brought Martha down with her. Another set of footsteps rushed over and another arm joined Martha's at her side.

The two sets of arms half dragged, half carried Leila out of the room and into another. They were silent as they lead her a small way and then through another door. The room through that door was so blissfully warm that Leila almost cried. It was steamy as well. "Baths?" Leila wondered.

The honey voiced woman, Martha, began to tug off Leila's smock. Leila tried weekly to protest, but her hands were batted away. "You can't keep this my dear, it's filthy" She couldn't see her blindfold through her hair so she didn't take it.

"So you're a girl, poor dear" Martha said after she had gotten the smock off. Before she could protest, her loin cloth was untied and taken as well. She was now completely naked in front of two strangers. She felt her cheeks begin to heat. She tried to cover herself with her hair and hands, but two pairs of strong hands suddenly lifted her into the air and dumped her into a vast amount of hot water.

Leila thought she was going to drown. Her hair, now a hundred pounds from the water in it, blocked air from getting to her mouth and she thrashed about in the water. The hands returned and pulled her up. "Stop it, dear, stop! Tis only a few feet deep!"



Leila stopped thrashing and discovered to her pleasure and amazement that she could indeed stand in the waist-high water. Martha pulled her hair away from her face so she could breathe and discovered the blindfold. She clucked good naturedly. "Can't be having that now, can we?" she said. But Leila wasn't going to give up her blindfold if she had anything to say about it. She didn't. She was no match for two healthy, well-fed women. When they finally wrestled it away from her she clapped her hands over her eyes.

The two women (she assumed the other pair of hands belong to a woman, they were soft and slender) pried her hands away from her face. "What is the matter?" demanded Martha. With her eyes clamped firmly shut Leila croaked single word, her first in over a year. "What's that?" Martha asked and leaned her head closer. "Ugly" Leila whispered again. "Oh they can't be that bad" she said matter-of-factly. "Come now; show us your pretty eyes." Leila was having none of it, she stubbornly shook her head, refusing to open her eyes. Martha gave up and instead attacked her body with cloths and something that burned her cuts when she rubbed it over them. "A few extra layers, I think" Martha muttered to herself. They washed her hair twice and poured a sweet-smelling liquid through it. When they were totally satisfied that her skin couldn't possibly have even a hint of dirt on it, they pulled her out and started drying her off. When they were done they wrapped her in a fluffy blanket and sat her on a chair. The next moment Leila thought they were trying to pull her hair out. She yelped and jerked up, nearly toppling over. "Now dearie, we are just trying to comb out this nest of snarls for you" Martha reassured her. "I've sent for some food and you can have it as soon as we're finished" she wheedled. It worked. Leila was immediately as submissive as a lap dog. The prospect of food, real food, made her mouth water. She gritted her teeth through the next half-hour until they were finally finished. She could feel her hair now. It was soft and silky and fell well past her waist. The women put it into a thick plait and twisted it up onto her head. It added about two pounds to the crown of her head. Leila was surprised to discover that it was not an altogether 

unpleasant experience, having that weight on one's head. It did, however, leave her feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable.

There was a knock to Leila's right. "That'll be your food and clothes, just as I promised." Leila heard Martha walk towards the place where the knock had come from. A door opened and a lovely scent filled the air. Leila's stomach gave a fantastic growl that was greeted by chuckles from the new woman in the room. "I'll wager you're right hungry after all that fuss, aren't you?" asked Martha. Leila nodded enthusiastically. She heard the heavenly sound of a tray being set down somewhere and the merry chuckles woman led her to another chair with a table in front of it.

Feeling in front of her, Leila discovered a cup, bread and a bowl from which the delicious scent permeated. She wasted no time and immediately brought the bowl to her lips, slurping down the delicious stew, pausing only to chew the many vegetables and chunks of meat. She was completely indifferent to the existence of the spoon on the tray, and would have ignored it had she known it was there, so hungry she was. She mopped the left over gravy up with the bread and sipped at the substance in the cup. She nearly choked; it was a light, bitter drink. Disgusting to the first taste, but became bearable if sipped slowly. Leila was pretty sure it was beer, though never having tasted it herself, couldn't be sure. "All done?" asked a bemused Martha. Leila nodded and burped quietly. Merry chuckled again. "Good, now we need to get you dressed."

Strength had returned fractionally to Leila with food and she could stand unsupported while they dressed her in an almost shear undergarment. It was followed by many layers of more of the same fabric in a complex pattern that was beyond Leila's ken. Martha slipped a pair of the softest shoes Leila had ever felt onto her feat and tied them with ribbons. Leila felt as if she were walking on cushions. The out-fit slithered over her skin when she moved even the slightest bit and when she turned with any kind of speed, fairly seethed around her.



"Now back to the party" said Martha not a little sadly. Fear stabbed into Leila. She had forgotten the room full of voices with bodies that made no sound.

They lead her back out into the cold. After the bathing room, the cold air was breath-taking, but the dress was a far cry from the canvas sack she had previously had and it kept her from being truly cold.

A little way along, her legs began to throb again from the scratches and bruises she had sustained. Martha had bandaged them, but Leila wondered what all this exercise would do to them. It wasn't a long way though and sooner than Leila would have liked, Martha announced that they were there. "Now just hold your head up high, and don't let them see your fear" Martha whispered to her. "I'm going to open the door, are you ready?" Leila nodded shakily and listened once again to the sound of voices hushing in mid sentence as the doors whispered open.


End file.
